


walk a mile in these louboutins

by Trickster88



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter is a Little Shit, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster88/pseuds/Trickster88
Summary: A collection of IronDad-centric prompts completed and originally posted on my Tumblr in celebration of milestones.
Relationships: Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I should probably post these here at some point! These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This first prompt is from [spider-beep](http://spider-beep.tumblr.com):
> 
> **“Baby, please tell me you can explain why there is a hole through the window.”**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

“Peter? Peter Parker!” May calls as she enters the apartment, keys clattering noisily as she drops them on the rickety side table by the front door. The apartment is unusually quiet - Peter should definitely be home by now. May pulls her hair out of the tight topknot she’s had it in for most of the day with a gentle groan of relief, fingers combing through the tangled strands.

 _Where is that boy?_ May thinks, toeing off her shoes and padding into the kitchen. One look at the state of the fridge has her nose in a scrunch - empty, damn, she was going to go shopping yesterday but she’d completely forgotten…

Work was a lot, sometimes. She didn’t used to have to take such long shifts, with Ben and her both working…they weren’t super secure, sure, with the way New York rent was, but they were comfortable. Reasonably modest; not without worries, but with a decent chunk of savings squirreled away for a rainy day.

But then Ben passed, and the bills piled up. Burial fees, time off from work, a psychiatrist for Peter talk to - all of it was necessary, and fine, but then there was a nail in her tire, and suddenly it wasn’t fine. She hadn’t even realized how carefully she’d been walking the tightrope until she was staring at the hundred dollar difference between _fine_ and _not fine_.

So she started taking third shifts, getting paid more to work later than she’d like to with a high school age kid waiting for her at home. Or, well, she’d _thought_ he was waiting for her at home. When she’d seen Peter standing there in that damned suit, her first thought had been, _why didn’t I see this?_

The answer, of course, was that she hadn’t been home to see it. Her second, guilty thought, was, _am I a bad parent for **not** seeing it?_

Things were good now, though; better, without secrets between them. That awful day where Peter had come home in Hello Kitty pajamas, of all things, after she’d been out of her mind with worry - eyes red-rimmed, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, telling her half-truths to hide the enormity he was struggling under; she never wanted that to happen to them again.

“Peter?” May calls again, snatching their well-worn pizza menu from the corner of the kitchen counter where they tucked various odds and ends. “Peter, are you home?”

May pushes open the door to Peter’s room with little trepidation - after finding out her nephew fought vigilante crime after school when he should be in robotics club, there was little that could scare her - but the sight on the other side of the door did manage to stop her in her tracks.

Peter was flat on his back, in his boxers, skin an angry pink like he’d been scrubbing it. Or, well, someone had, because Ned was poised over him, red-handed, with a sponge. The expressions on their faces were identically shocked, which should be impossible, considering Peter could hear her heartbeat in the next room (or so it had been explained to her).

“Baby,” May started slowly, when neither of the boys offered an explanation. “Please tell me you can explain why there’s a hole through the window.”

Because that was the other part of it - there was a baseball-sized hole in Peter’s window, spindly cracks zigzagging away from the point of impact. Literally nothing was adding up here.

( _But at least Peter wasn’t bleeding_ , the little voice in the back of May’s brain noted with relief.)

Ned and Peter turn to each other, having some sort of desperate conversation with their eyes, before both of them turn back to her and start to explain, talking over the other. And, of course, with wildly contradicting stories.

“Peter joined the baseball team - “

“I was just - the _baseball team?_ Ned - “

May just waves the pizza flyer. “You know what? I’m good.”

“Wha-huh?” Peter blinks at her owlishly, confusion creeping over his expression. “You’re good?”

“Yup.” May pops the ‘p’ in her sentence, turning to go back down the hall. “Put on some clothes before dinner, please.”

“Dude, what?” She could hear Ned stage-whispering to Peter, who just groans softly and thunks his head against the carpet.

May opens her phone, clicking on the contacts. She begrudgingly saved Tony’s number on her favorites list after the first few months - he’s earned his spot there by now, though. Her heart still gives a little tug when she sees Ben’s name at the top (how long was it before she disconnected his number? How many times had she called the line, letting his phone buzz on her comforter, just to hear his voicemail?)

“Hey, Tony,” May flicks open the pizza menu. “What do you like on your pizza?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/188372512840/6-or-51-for-the-prompt-thing-congrats-on-fifty) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from [razor-bats](http://razor-bats.tumblr.com):
> 
> **“I miss you, but then I remember what an asshole you are and the feeling fades.”**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

“Happy Birthday!”

Peter let out an unimpressed _woo_ as Harry blew the obnoxious plastic kazoo he’d dug up God-only-knows-where, made even more annoying by the tinny sound of it coming through his phone. Harry had insisted they Facetime, and now, Peter could see why - the guy was decked out with a full-on party hat, and a cupcake with a lit candle.

“Are you serious? Is this a serious thing you’re doing, Harry?” Peter hid his smile in the sleeve of his hoodie, rearranging so he could lay on his stomach and look at the phone. Harry rolled his eyes, one finger toying with the string under his chin.

“What? C’mon, it’s not everyday you turn - wait, how ancient are you again?” Peter stuck out his tongue in response, and Harry pulled down his eyelid, muffling his snickers.

“You know, sometimes I miss you,” Peter snorted, propping his chin in his hand. Harry grinned at him through the phone, and Peter continued. “-but then I remember what an asshole you are, and the feeling fades.”

“Oh _wow_ , and here I thought you were getting decent on me, Parker - “ Harry’s face glitched; once, twice, then cut out completely. Peter waited patiently as the wheel spun - _no video connection_ \- but the call disconnected entirely, the soft _beep beep beep_ of a dropped call.

Peter rolled over with a sigh, smiling to himself. He did miss Harry, that much was true. The fact that he’d go to so much trouble, even when he was on the other side of the world - it meant a lot, more than Peter could say.

The door creaked as the handle turned, and Peter rolled over to say hi to May as she entered the room - except he’s met with the loudest fucking kazoo noise he’s ever heard, and he actually fell out of the bed in surprise.

“ _Harry?_ ” Peter said incredulously, staring upside-down at his friend - who’s laughing openly, now. Harry crouched down, giving the kazoo one more buzz as he held out the cupcake, candle still lit.

“Am I still an asshole?”

“Yes,” Peter laughed, sitting up to take the cupcake. He blew out the candle, wrapping his free arm around Harry and pulling him into a hug. “The absolute worst, Osborn.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry grinned, hugging him back just as tightly. “Happy birthday, Pete.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/188373977180/because-im-both-crazy-proud-of-you-and-very) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from [mala-sadas](http://mala-sadas.tumblr.com):
> 
> **“Emotions are a luxury I don’t have time for.” & “If I tell you I love you, will you make me pancakes?”**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

“How many more brain cells are you going to sacrifice to that tissue?”

Tony stares at Peter, exasperated. The kid is obviously sick, a little cold that would burn itself out in an hour or two, with his healing - if he would _let_ himself have an hour. Tony isn’t exactly the model for _self-care_ , but really, that should lend more credence to his opinion - if he’s saying it’s bad, _it’s probably bad_.

But Peter doesn’t seem to care, because he answers by blowing his trumpet of a nose into the tissue again, which seems to have reached its quota for usefulness as he crumples it to add it to the growing pile at his feet (the trashcan has _overfloweth_ ).

“Pete, _hello_. Earth to Peter.” Tony snaps his fingers in front of Peter’s glazed eyes, and finally catches his attention. “You are in dire need of a nap.”

“Can’t,” Peter’s voice sounds like hell, all rough and scratchy, like he needs to drink a gallon of orange juice. Tony winces in sympathy. “Work to do.”

“Uh huh, yeah, sure.” Tony says, in a tone the exact opposite of ‘sure’. “Kid, seriously. What is so important that it’s got you up, looking like the living dead?”

“Physics,” Peter responds dully, one hand already reaching for another tissue. His other is gripping a pencil, poised over his lab book, but Tony can see that he’s not making much progress.

“Your teacher is going to have to burn your homework for fear of contamination.” Tony snatches the lab book easily, ignoring Peter’s weak noise of protest. “Go get some rest, kid. You can finish this when you don’t look like you’re about to keel over.”

“Nngh, fine,” Peter huffs out, inadvertently making a snotty, gurgling noise. Tony makes a point of holding the lab book away from his body, between his pointer finger and his thumb.

Peter smiles, rolling his eyes, and shuffles towards the door. He pauses, though, glancing back over his shoulder, and asks, “Hey, would you make me pancakes when I wake up?”

“What? Does this look like a bed and breakfast to you?” Tony raises an eyebrow, and Peter shuffles his feet. Tony takes pity on him. “Why pancakes?”

“May always makes me pancakes when I’m sick.” Peter finally meets Tony’s eyes again, amused. “It’s one of the only things she can cook, uh, consistently.”

“I’m more of an omelette connoisseur myself,” Tony jokes, but then Peter turns the full force of his puppy dog eyes on Tony and oh. That should be illegal, how is he supposed to deny this kid _anything_?

“If I tell you I love you, will you make me pancakes?” Tony’s the one who has to look away now, as his heart squeezes in his chest. He busies himself with looking over Peter’s equations, most of which are only half-finished.

“Emotions are a luxury I don’t have time for.” He can see Peter smiling out of the corner of his eye, and Tony waves him off, even as he can’t fight the smile tugging at the edges of his mouth, too. “Go on, get.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter disappears around the corner, raising his voice as he goes so Tony can hear him. “Blueberry, if you have it!”

 _Love you too, kid_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/188374539245/5-30-for-the-dialogue-prompts) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from [iron--spider](http://iron--spider.tumblr.com):
> 
> **“Of course it’s not your fault, it never is.”**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ \- “ ****

Peter looked like he was well on his way to hyperventilating, the scrapes and bruises still not fully healed from his battle with Mysterio. Tony watched him pace, back and forth, wearing a hole in the carpet, until he just couldn’t anymore. Tony wheeled forward, knocking right into Peter’s knees. The boy yelped, more indignant than hurt, and broke his spiral to shoot Tony a look of confusion. “What was that for?”

“Calm down.” Peter blinked at him with watery eyes, the tears he was barely holding at bay brewing there. Tony smiled sadly, beckoning Peter closer with one hand, the other a phantom at his side. “Oh, Pete. Come here.”

Peter stumbled forward, sinking to his knees next to Tony’s chair. Tony took Peter’s hands in his, squeezing them tightly. “It’s not your fault. You know that, don’t you?”

“Isn’t it? I _gave him EDITH_ , I’m an _idiot_ , I _trusted_ him, and for what? London is _literally in ruins_ and for _what_? Because I was scared? Because you handed me responsibility and I was too much of a chickenshit - “

“Fury gave you those glasses without my permission!” Tony cut Peter off sharply; he was in a wheelchair, sure, but his tongue was still quick. He squeezed Peter’s hands again, reassuring. “He had them for safekeeping, but you weren’t ready. And that’s _okay_ , Pete, that’s his mistake.”

“The world needs the next Iron Man,” Peter quoted wryly, looking absolutely miserable, and Tony shook his head.

“No, it doesn’t. The world needs _you_. We need you to be you, kid.” Peter deflated, ducking his head against Tony’s legs, and Tony let his thumb rub a gentle circle into the back of Peter’s hand. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not?” Peter muttered quietly, breathlessly, like he wasn’t 100% sure the answer was yes. Tony’s heart ached - would this kid ever catch a break? Tony released Peter’s hands to move his hand up into the kid’s hair, smoothing through the tangled curls. He freed up a matted section of hair, dried blood flaking onto his blanket.

“Of course not, Pete. Of course it’s not your fault.” Peter tilted his head to look up at him, tears spilling over now, and Tony stared back at him, firm. “It never is. Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter sniffed, sighing against Tony’s knee. Tony just petted slowly through his hair, trying to maintain a sense of calm when his fingers found another bloody patch.

“I’ve got you, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/188375418285/ilu-im-so-proud-of-you-you-complete-me-same-brain) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from [iron--spider](http://iron--spider.tumblr.com):
> 
>  **"Did you used to get things as a child when you screamed? I’ll let you know right now that it’s not going to help you here."**  
>    
> **"You’re in a well? Is it more like the Buffalo Bill one or the Samara one?"**
> 
> **"This joke goes beyond practical and far into sadistic territory."**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

Tony has to admit, this wasn’t how he saw his day going.

Things had been going just fine, business-as-usual; he had taken Peter Christmas shopping, which was no small affair. Normally, Tony wouldn’t be braving the veritable throngs of wailing children and exhausted parents just for a 20% deal on a pair of socks (seriously? 20% was the best they could do?), but when he’d said as much with an offhand quip about shopping online, Peter had regarded him more seriously than he’d anticipated.

“Christmas gifts need to come from the heart, Mr. Stark.”

How a blender you bought at Macy’s had more heart than a blender you bought online, Tony didn’t know (maybe it had something to do with the number of people you had to elbow out of the way?), but he also thinks it’s because Peter is insistent on spending his own money. Tony would much rather the kid use it to take his girlfriend out (he’d come back from the disaster of a trip with a girlfriend, and while it wasn’t quite worth the panic and terror of watching Spiderman take down a madman in a literal London blitz, Tony had to admit, Peter was being adorable about the whole thing).

Regardless, they’re perusing through the JCPenny perfume section (Tony _told him_ not to buy MJ a fragrance, but did Peter listen? It looks like he might, though, because so far he hasn’t liked any of the scents, nose wrinkling more and more with each spritz) when everything goes to hell.

Peter cringes a full two seconds before the first explosion hits, tackling Tony out of the way as the storefront windows blow out. They land hard, skidding across the tile until Peter stops them by a clearance rack. The kid’s already up on one knee, and he makes eye contact with Tony for the briefest instant before he’s up and running for the dressing rooms.

“Kid - “ Tony starts, but Peter’s already gone. Spiderman swings out not three seconds later (was he wearing the suit _under his clothes_ ), launching himself into the mall proper.

Tony doesn’t have the suit. _Tony doesn’t have the suit._ He knew something like this was likely to happen eventually - he still has his watch, a few tricks on the new prosthetic arm he’s wearing - but his heart can’t take the kind of stress the Iron Man suit requires. It’s the first time he’s been caught in a situation like this since Thanos, and it’s panic-inducing, dizzyingly so - especially when Peter jumps right into action with _no back-up_.

Tony swallows down the tightness in his chest (no panic attack, not right now, chill the _fuck out_ ) and gets his feet under him, heading towards the chaos. People are running for cover, screaming - Santa bolts towards the FYE, beard flying off and landing somewhere on the floor behind him.

“Gobby, we talked about this!” Peter sails overhead, swinging around a column and trying to kick the Green Goblin off his glider. He aborts the move at the last second, while the Goblin swings at him with what looks like a _sword_. “Do you want to make the naughty list three years in a row?”

Gobby _cackles_ in a way that makes the hair on Tony’s remaining arm stand up on end, gnashing his teeth, and he zooms after Peter, launching another handful of pumpkin bombs at the kid.

There’s a man throwing _bombs_ at his _kid_.

“FRIDAY, get us some back-up here,” Tony instructs the AI through his watch, though he’s sure she’s already put in the necessary calls. It still doesn’t make it any easier, watching Peter dance and dodge out of the Goblin’s way (barely, _barely_ , every time is a razor’s edge to pure disaster). Tony moves to help a few people up off the ground, keeping an eye on the fight the whole time - the atrium is nearly empty, thankfully, shoppers having dashed for the cover of the stores.

Another bomb goes off - this time, part of the ceiling goes with it. A sizeable chunk hits Peter as he’s trying to swing away from it, and sends him sprawling. It’s not enough to seriously hurt him (Tony doesn’t think), but it still makes his heart leap up into his throat. Either way, the second of distraction is all it takes for Goblin to end up on top of him.

“I’ve got you now, little spider,” Goblin snarls, one hand wrapped around Peter’s throat, and Tony sees red.

“Hey _douchecanoe_!” Tony yells, drawing attention to himself. The man’s head snaps up, crazed eyes zeroing in on Tony. “Yeah, I’m talking to you!”

“Mr. Stark - “ Peter starts with a cough, but Goblin is already laughing again - crazily, maddeningly, and Tony doesn’t even have enough time to react. Peter goes flying - Goblin _throws him_ through the Urban Outfitters window in an ostentatious display of broken glass and hipster scarves - and the villain is on Tony in the next instant.

“Hello Mr. _Stark_ ,” Goblin giggles, grabbing him bodily and zooming upwards, towards the caved in part of the ceiling. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Tony tries to activate his watch so he can blast this asshole to kingdom come, but the Goblin’s fist comes down on his face, and Tony’s world is enveloped in swift darkness.

***

He wakes up to screaming.

“LET ME OUT! HEY! LET ME OUT!”

Tony groans and winces as he opens his eyes - at least it’s relatively dark, so he doesn’t have to worry about light fucking with his probably-a-concussion - but jesus, the screams are loud and panicked. Whoever it is doesn’t seem to have noticed Tony’s awake just yet, yelling upwards towards -

Huh. They’re in some kind of a hole, which looks to be too deep to climb out of. Great.

“Did you used to get things as a child when you screamed?” Tony grumbles, and the yells cut off abruptly as the person turns to look at him, startled. “I’ll let you know right now, that’s not going to help here.”

“You’re - holy shit, you’re Tony Stark.” His vision focuses in on his fellow prisoner - he looks like he’s Peter’s age, maybe, with thickset eyebrows and curly, dark hair. Tony pushes himself up into a sitting position, back to the (damp) wall, and he bites back another wince when he touches the tender spot on the back of his head, and his hand comes away bloody. _Great._

“The one and only. And you are?” Tony glances down at his watch, which is still on his wrist. Goblin, what a dumbfuck - or probably just overly cocky, the prick. He pulls up the hologram and starts executing commands to find out where he is, and to alert the appropriate people.

“Flash, uh, sir. Flash Thompson.” Flash stutters, and Tony spares a second to look at him dubiously (what? Comedic timing waits for no Goblin-related-emergency.)

“Seriously?” Flash nods, eyes wide, and Tony frowns. The name is a) stupid, but b) sounds oddly familiar. His attention is diverted by a chirp from his watch - a location lock, distress signal sent. They’ll be out of here in no time at all. “Well…citizen, no need to worry. Help is on the - Christ.”

There’s an incoming call from **SPIDERMAN** flashing on the watch’s projection, and Tony pulls it up, careful to hit audio only. “Talk to me, kid.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter’s relief pitches his voice high, almost a little shrill, coming through the speakers, and Tony dials it down a notch on the volume. “Oh my God, you’re alive!”

“Thought you could get rid of me that easily? I’m disappointed, I thought I taught you better than that.” Tony barely resists the urge to smile when that comment gets a relieved laugh out of Peter, which echoes against the walls of their pit. He’s too aware of his audience, though - Flash, staring at him from the corner - so he tries not to let the worry seep through too much. “Are you okay?” 

“Me? I’m fine,” Peter rushes out, as if the last time Tony saw him, he hadn’t had Goblin’s fingers wrapped around his neck in a chokehold. “Are _you_ okay? He turned on his cloaking tech before I could get after you.”

“I’m fine.” Peter made a skeptical noise at the back of his throat, and Tony bit his tongue to stop from bantering with him - one dubious look at Flash kept it under wraps (the kid wasn’t even _trying_ to hide his blatant interest). “You’ve got my location lock?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way.” Tony opened his mouth to protest, but even without seeing him, Peter must have known what he was going to say because he hurried to continue. “Falcon is en route, but I’m closer.”

“Just be careful,” Tony grumbles to himself, concealing a wince when he rubs at the back of his head. “Could be a trap. He’s got us in a well.”

“Sorry,” Tony can hear the shit-eating grin in Peter’s voice and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t roll them up to the heavens. “Did you just say you’re in a well?”

“ _Yes_ I did, and I’d very much appreciate it if I _wasn’t anymore_.” It’s the closest Tony can get to threatening; Flash looks like he’s about to wet himself with excitement, and the starstruck novelty is beginning to wear off.

“Is it more like the Buffalo Bill well or the Samara well?” Yet again, Tony has to bite his tongue before he can ask _what the hell are you doing watching Silence of the Lambs, you’re eleven_. All of this holding back is just stockpiling for later. “It rubs the _lotion on it’s skin_ \- ”

“Is that Spiderman?” Flash whispers, way too loudly, inching closer. Tony fixes him with his second most intimidating stare, but the kid must be brave (or just stupid), because he’s insistent. “I’m his number one fan.”

“Mr. Stark? Is there someone there with you?”

“Yeah, Gobby’s got a kid here - why are you here, anyway?” A detail he skipped over before, but what is Flash to the Green Goblin? Flash puffs out his chest, looking far too proud.

“I’m Spiderman’s biggest fan! Spiderman - I’m your biggest fan!”

“Yeah, I got that part.” Peter sounds confused, and Tony’s kind of starting to wish he hadn’t woken up. Unconsciousness is pretty blissful, turns out. “Maybe Gobby got jealous. He’s always wanted to be president of my fanclub.”

“You have a fanclub?” Flash says - no, _demands_ \- in a way that suggests ‘Spiderman Fan Club’ will be the first thing he Googles as soon as they’re out of this hole. Tony pinches the bridge of his nose - this joke has moved swiftly beyond ‘practical’ and is making a play as far into ‘sadistic’ as possible. Then again, what was Tony expecting from a shopping trip with Peter?

“ _Shit._ ” Peter says, half a second before an explosion ends their phone call. Tony doesn’t even have time to react, because the reverberations from said explosion shake the entire well (hole? pit?), and Flash starts screaming again.

“HELP, SOMEBODY HELP! SPIDERMAN HELP ME!”

Flash gets his wish - a web comes out of nowhere and latches onto Flash’s shirt, and the kid is gone before Tony can blink. He starts to stand up, words already forming. “Don’t you dare - “

“Yoink!” Tony’s flying upwards before he can finish the sentence, which he leaves half-formed somewhere at the bottom of the stupid well (along with his stomach). Tony grabs on for dear life, and Peter catches him around the waist, hoisting him under one arm.

“I hate that you said ‘yoink’ out loud. Absolutely disgusting.” Tony feels his stomach swoop as Peter swings them over a mountain of debris and out an opening Tony is very sure they won’t fit through - but somehow, they manage. “Where’s our friend?”

“Who, Flash?” Peter doesn’t sound winded at all, even though they’re booking it down the street, arcing into the next side street. “I tossed him to Falcon.”

“You _know_ that kid?” Suddenly, it clicks. “Wait, _that_ was the shithead whose been giving you a hard time?”

“Aw, man.” Peter groans, torquing them in another direction. “I never should have introduced you to Ned.”

“What - Peter! I wasn’t even - I wanted to know where the _Goblin_ was!”

An explosion that is far too close for comfort answers that question for him, and Peter lets out a yelp as they execute a nausea-inducing maneuver to dodge out of Gobby’s way. Tony hears the high-pitched laughter behind them, and Peter switches Tony to his other arm as he tries to get away.

“I have had enough of this chucklefuck,” Tony growls, and he’s serious. Between the Midtown housewives elbowing them out of the way of the sale racks and Goblin dropping him in the bottom of a well, he’s fed _up_ with today. “Peter. Throw me at him.”

“ _What?_ ” Goblin throws another pumpkin bomb, and Tony can’t even feel whether or not it singes over how angry he is. “What do you mean _throw you at him?_ ”

“I meant what I said, and I said what I meant.” Tony clenches and unclenches his metal fist; he might not be Iron Man anymore, but he’s not _dead_.

“An elephant’s faithful, one hundred percent.” Peter finishes with a snicker, because of course Tony couldn’t sneak anything by him. “You just want me to chuck you?”

“With a little more precision, yeah. Throw me at him, and when I get him off that knockoff hoverboard, catch me.” Peter only hesitates a half a second before he nods, directing them into a wide arc as he swings back around to face the Goblin. Goblin is behind them, swerving jerkily in the air, in all his teeth-gnashing glory, and Tony curls his hand into a fist.

“One, two - “ Peter throws him on three, and Tony has the satisfaction of watching Goblin’s eyes widen in surprise for the briefest instant - because who would suspect Tony using himself as a projectile, truly? He tries to swerve out of the way, but Tony grabs the end of his hoverboard and yanks, throwing him off balance.

Goblin snarls, blade extending so he can jab down at Tony with it, but it’s too late. Tony lets an electrical charge loose from his prosthesis, shutting the glider down and tasing the fuck out of the Goblin. He buckles, and the glider starts to crash - Tony bails, letting go and free-falling towards the concrete at an alarming speed.

But then there’s the familiar _yank_ of webbing attaching to his shirt, and in the fight against gravity, Peter wins. He changes Tony’s momentum, swinging him upwards like he’s trying to do goddamn yo-yo trick.

“Next year,” Tony wraps an exhausted arm over the kid’s shoulders as Peter tucks him under his arm like a football. He’s still wired from the adrenaline, muscles trembling slightly. “Everybody you know is getting gift cards.”

“Who doesn’t enjoy a good holiday rush?” Peter says, and Tony can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Gift cards, Peter. _Gift cards._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/189321553995/5-12-and-44-ilu) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from an anon:
> 
> **"You’re still convinced you can change me?"**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

It’s thirty-six hours, twelve minutes, and four seconds before Rhodey has had enough.

Tony just laughs, not even looking up from whatever the hell he’s working on when Rhodey plants himself in the doorway to the workshop, arms crossed. The man has deep, _deep_ bags under his eyes, but he insists he’s not tired with a cavalier air and a _yeah, yeah, right after I finish this._

He’s said the same thing at the nineteen, twenty-seven, and thirty-one hour marks, too.

“Dammit, Tony,” Rhodey throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. He doesn’t know how Pepper puts up with it sometimes, he really doesn’t. It’s not just that Tony blows off the concern, but that he becomes so infuriatingly offhand about it - and Rhodey’s been around this block before. Tony hasn’t gone on a workshop bender like this in quite a while - not past twenty-four hours, at least. “You reek. I need you to take a shower, for the safety of everyone in this Compound.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tony’s hands are occupied, but Rhodey can practically see him waving him off anyway. “It’s cute that you’re still convinced you can change me, buddy.”

“I’m making you food,” Rhodey points at him threateningly, mechanical prosthesis whirring as he turns to go back up the stairs. “And you’re eating it.”

“Whatever you say, Rhodey-bear. Oh light of my life - “

Grumbling, Rhodey stomps back up the stairs, debating whether or not to call in the nuclear warhead and enlist Pepper’s help from afar. She was overseas for a meeting in Hong Kong, but failure wasn’t really in her vocabulary.

“Hi, Mr. Rhodey!” The kid waves to Rhodey as he enters the kitchen, popping a spoonful of peanut butter into his mouth. Rhodey smiles tiredly, despite the mood Tony seems determined to put him in. It’s been going on six months he’s been trying to get Peter to just call him ‘Rhodey’, to no avail. Tony thinks it’s absolutely hilarious; if he’s being honest, it’s just kind of adorable. The kid belongs on Sesame Street, or something.

“Hi, Peter. How’s school?” Rhodey opens the fridge, trying to decide what would be the easiest to try and get Tony to eat.

“School’s good! I aced my Chemistry test.” Peter offers an enthusiastic thumbs up, still licking his teeth to get the peanut butter off. “Not sure about my Econ paper though. Mrs. Millhouse is a tough grader.”

“I’m sure you’ve got it in the bag.” Rhodey decides on making Tony a salad and a bowl of mac and cheese. Simple. Palatable. Won’t be too awful when he forgets about it until three hours after it’s fresh. Well maybe the mac and cheese won’t be that great, but Rhodey’s allowed a minor moment of vindictiveness, right? “What are you doing here? I thought you were coming Friday.”

“Oh, I am! Mr. Stark left me a voicemail to come early and pick up some webshooter improvements.” Peter’s nose wrinkles, and he taps his spoon against the peanut butter jar idly. “I don’t know what kind of improvements it needs, it already has way too many web combinations.”

Rhodey sighs, offering a half shrug as he turns on the stove to start the mac and cheese. “Tony’s on a bit of a manic work kick. Whatever improvements he made are probably wholly unnecessary; I’m sorry you came all the way out here.”

It’s very possible Tony won’t even remember leaving the kid a voicemail. Rhodey squints at the box instructions before doing a mental _fuck it_ and dumping the noodles in a pot. “He’s been awake for thirty-six hours.”

“ _Thirty-six hours?!_ ” Peter nearly drops his spoon, clearly gobsmacked. Ah, to be young and uninitiated to the ways and wildings of Tony Stark. If only Rhodey could be so lucky, but he’s been cursed with being best friends with the most genius idiot to ever walk the planet. It’s his cross to bear. “You can’t - he can’t _do_ that!”

Rhodey bites back the _tell me about it, kid_ , and just smiles to himself as he adds the water and stirs the softening noodles. “Just try and stop him.”

“Okay,” Peter says immediately, and Rhodey turns, ready to tell him that it’s a fruitless endeavor and that he was kidding - but the kid is already gone, stool empty, peanut butter open with a spoon sticking upright in it. Rhodey shakes his head, turning back to the stove; the kid will find out the hard way, then. Peter’s patience is pretty decent, but Tony knows how to break down even the strongest of wills.

Rhodey’s prepared for several scenarios, as the minutes tick by and his mac and cheese cooks:

1) Peter coming back up the stairs, worried because Tony blew him off.

2) Peter charging back up the stairs, annoyed because Tony blew him off.

Actually, that’s about it. Those are pretty much the only logical reactions to Tony’s particular brand of insolence.

There is one thing he’s not prepared for, though:

3) Peter coming back up the stairs, Tony slung over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, ignoring the increasingly irritated (and colorful) protests coming from his mentor.

“Jesus, Tony, watch your mouth. There’s a child present.” Rhodey takes the mac and cheese off the burner, turning around to stare as Peter deposits Tony on the barstool. Tony runs a hand over his face, looking totally caught off guard - a rare sight, Rhodey has to admit.

“This - this _child_ just kidnapped me!” Tony seems to realize just how ridiculous that sounds as he says it, and Rhodey raises an eyebrow, barely holding back a smirk. “I think I reserve the right to say ‘what the _fuck_?’”

“I didn’t kidnap you,” Peter says firmly, reaching over to grab the bowl of salad Rhodey had pulled out of the fridge and scooting it across the counter towards Tony. “I displaced you from one location to another against your will.”

“How is that not kidnapping?” Tony demands, and Peter shrugs.

“Cede to my demands or suffer the consequences.”

Rhodey hides a snicker, grabbing a bowl to pour the mac and cheese into. Tony, for once, seems at a loss as Peter hands him a fork and nods to the salad encouragingly. This is going way better than Rhodey ever could have anticipated, and he’s loving every minute of it.

“This is crazy. You’re a little psychopath.” Tony jabs the fork accusingly at Peter, who just stares at him until he stabs his lettuce, clearly still contemplating mutiny, and shoves it into his mouth. “Seriously, what the hell?”

“May doesn’t put up with any ‘nonsense’.” Peter’s eyebrows rise as he makes the air quotes; clearly, Tony’s antics qualify as ‘nonsense’ in his book. “She raised me not to put up with any, either.”

“Your aunt raised a terrifying hellion, that’s what she raised.” Tony mutters, glaring at Peter and Rhodey. “Traitor. I can’t believe this. I absolutely cannot believe this. After everything I’ve done for you.”

“Believe it, Tones,” Rhodey cuts in, setting the mac and cheese in front of him. “You need a nap and a shower. Not necessarily in that order, but I’m not picky.” 

“I am. Shower then nap. That’s so gross!” Peter makes a face, and Tony mutters something indistinguishable and shovels more lettuce into his mouth. Peter, apparently, could hear it, because he slaps a hand down on the counter. “Yes, you _will,_ because I’m approximately 115 times stronger than you.”

Tony splutters, drops of ranch landing in his beard, and Peter swipes his peanut butter back from the countertop, popping another spoonful in his mouth. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but you need to take a break.”

“I’m disowning you,” Tony declares, stabbing another forkful of lettuce.

“You never owned me in the first place.” Peter points out, his lack of sarcasm making it all the funnier. Rhodey’s having a tough time keeping a straight face, over here.

“Yeah, well I’m going to adopt you for the sole purpose of the satisfaction it will bring me when I _disown you_.” Tony shoots Peter another glare - not that it seems to phase him.

“Sure, Mr. Stark.” Peter pats him on the back, ignoring the way Tony swats at him. “I’m going to start my homework.”

“I hate him. Brat.” Tony shakes his head as he starts in on the mac and cheese, glancing at Peter’s departure. “He just picked me up! Just walked in and carried me away!”

“I like him.” Rhodey grins, all teeth, letting the mirth he’d been holding back begin to show. “In fact, he’s my new favorite.”

The scandalized look on Tony’s face, coupled with the clatter of him dropping his silverware, is utterly priceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/189478594020/52-and-congrats) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from an anon:
> 
> **“So this is something you do? Like, regularly? You know, more than once?”**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

In Peter’s defense, Tony wasn’t supposed to _find out_. ****

He knows he’s in trouble, the question is: how _much_ trouble? Tony’s staring at him, face inscrutable, chin propped in his hand as he studies Peter’s project. Ned looks like he’s about to pass out in the corner, eyes wide as saucers, mouth agape. There’s no denying what they were doing, either (though every instinct Peter has urges him to lie, there’s just nothing for it, at this point) - because Tony caught them red-handed. In fact, Peter’s blowtorch is still on; he should probably turn that off, actually. He does so, putting the flame out with a _click_ , and the silence that invades is as heavy as a lead balloon.

“So is this something you do? Like, regularly?” Tony is the one to break the silence, crossing the room to stand in front of the evidence. He raises an eyebrow; clearly the question was not rhetorical. “You know, as in more than once?”

“No?” Peter replies weakly, starting to experience genuine concern that Ned is going to faint. Tony just snorts, turning over the pieces Peter was working on in his hands.

“This is a multi-million dollar lab, you know, with government secrets in every corner, corporate secrets everywhere else, and a lockdown protocol that’ll knock the pants right off you, and you’re building - what are you building, exactly?”

Peter catches Ned’s eye, and their silent conversation goes something like this:

“ _Don’t tell him._ ” Peter’s head shake says.

“ _HE’S IRON MAN! I HAVE TO!_ ” Ned’s bulging eyes yell.

“ _Do. Not. Do. It._ ” The twitch in Peter’s eyebrow threatens.

“ _IRON MAN, PETER!!! IRON MAN!!! I DON’T WANT TO GO TO JAIL!!_ ”

Peter’s silent response is rendered negligible as Ned blurts out, “It’s a replica Stormtrooper outfit. For a con.”

“Ned!”

“We were gonna dress up and take pictures and MJ was going to dress up as Rey and Peter was going to hit on her.”

“NED!”

Tony’s smirk makes Peter’s cheeks burn bright red, and the pat on the shoulder Tony provides him with a moment later is especially embarrassing. “You’re never gonna let this go, huh?”

“Not on your life.” Tony informs him gleefully. Ned, at least, looks mildly apologetic, though there’s no hiding the relief in his expression. He keeps forgetting Ned is patently not good under pressure.

Tony turns to go back the way he came, and if Peter didn’t know any better, he’d _swear_ there was a new spring in his step. “Guess I’d better leave you to it, then, Casanova.”

“Don’t tell May!” Peter yells after him, and Tony waves him off nonchalantly as he leaves.

“He’s totally going to tell May.” Ned says, after a beat.

“I _know,_ Ned!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/190558128380/23-omg) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from an anon:
> 
> **“Are you trying to describe the concept of a dinner date?”**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

Peter’s been bouncing his leg for six minutes, four seconds, before Tony cracks. It’s not that nervous fidgeting bothers him all that much - there’s only so much hypocrisy Tony can tolerate, even from himself - but the kid’s been bugging out since he got here two hours ago. There’s something on his mind, and he needs to spit it out before he makes Tony _lose_ his.

“Out with it, Parker. Come on.” Tony sets his tools down on the workbench with a dramatic _clang_ , snapping his fingers. Peter, for his part, just stares at him, one hand still idly swirling the chemical concoction in his erlenmeyer flask.

“What?”

Tony’s eyes narrow, and the stare off lasts a good seven seconds. Peter blinks at him innocently with those big, brown doe eyes, made even more innocuous by the laboratory goggles he’s wearing. “Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.”

Peter sighs, setting the flask down and pushing his goggles to the top of his head. Tony crosses his arms, doing his very best not to look as smug as he feels. “What’s on your mind, Peter?”

“Well I have this - uh, thing, tonight.” Tony can feel his eyebrow climbing higher and higher, and he tries valiantly to get it under control. Peter rubs at his neck awkwardly, struggling to find the right words to explain his predicament. “Like with this person. This really funny, really smart person that I - well it’s not like - I mean it’s - yeah.”

“That’s about as vague as you could possibly be.” Tony points out dryly, and Peter groans in frustration.

“I like them! This person. But I don’t know if they like me. Well, like, I _know_ but it - sometimes it’s hard to get a read on them and like, we’re going to go eat food together - I mean, we eat food together all the time but this is like, _totally different_ and I’m going to pick her up and everything and I don’t know what that means or if it means anything at all or if we’re just friends or - “

Tony raises a hand to cut Peter off, unable to keep the amusement out of his expression completely. “Are you trying to describe the concept of a dinner date?”

Peter makes another frustrated noise and practically collapses against the lab table, banging his head on it. “This is a disaster. I’m a disaster. I should be quarantined for the sake of everyone on this planet.”

Tony comes around the side of the table to rest a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s not a disaster. You’re a teenager - life is just like this, for you.”

“Not helping.” Peter grouses from the table.

“It gets better?” Tony can practically feel the eyeroll Peter gives him, even if he can’t see it. “Look, kid, MJ already likes you. You don’t need to convince her of anything - she already agreed to the date. I guarantee it won’t be the disaster you think it will.”

“You really think so?” Peter asks, turning around to face him. Peter’s expression has been bolstered into nervous optimism, and Tony smiles, squeezing his shoulder.

“Yeah, kid, I do.” Peter smiles, a little shy, and Tony decides to save the ribbing for another day. The kid is hilarious when he’s blushing. “And I’m never wrong, so jot that down.”

“Thanks, Tony. Thank you.” Peter lets out a long breath, and Tony walks back over to his project, satisfied. “I’ll - I’ll try that.”

“Good on you, kid. Let me know how it goes.”

The lapse into silence doesn’t last long. Peter sets his erlenmeyer flask down slowly, cocking his head at Tony. “Wait…how did you know it was MJ?”

Tony snorts, not even bothering to look up from his tinkering. “Seriously?”

(Later that night, Tony tells Pepper the story in bed and she laughs, bright and clear. “So the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

Tony blinks, pulling back from where his chin had been tucked over her shoulder. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

She never does tell him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/190558958110/9-for-the-prompt-list-please) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from an anon:
> 
> **“What are you doing?" "What am I doing...I'll have to come back to you on that."**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

“What are you doing?”

Tony stares. Nothing about this picture makes sense. Peter is standing in the kitchen, practically covered head to toe in flour. How did he even manage that? There’s no one else here. He was literally totally alone when Tony caught him and…whatever the hell _that_ is.

 _That_ refers to the monstrosity sitting on a tin baking tray on Tony’s counter. He’s pretty sure the mess of goop is sentient. He could have sworn he saw it wink at him. It looks like - he doesn’t know what it looks like. The English language doesn’t have the words to describe the eldritch horror on Tony’s countertop.

“What am I doing? Me?” Peter says quickly, voice high and nervous. His hands are covered in dough? Sludge? It’s brown and viscous, that’s about as much as Tony can say definitively.

“Do you see anyone else here?”

There’s a smudge of the concoction marring Peter’s cheek, and Tony can’t help but wonder if it will burn his skin off. Peter looks from Tony, to the sludge, and back up at Tony, a deer in headlights. “…I’ll have to come back to you on that.”

Tony sighs heavily and resists the urge to look up at the ceiling in the hopes of divine intervention, but only barely. Peter gives him an anxious smile, and the Thing on the pan droops a couple of inches. “You have to tell me what you’re doing, or the CDC is really gonna freak out when I call them.”

“Hey!” Peter frowns indignantly. “My cake isn’t that bad!”

It is, in fact, that bad. Tony stares at him dubiously - now it’s his turn to look from the “cake” to Peter, and back at the cake. “That’s supposed to be a _cake_? And why, pray tell, are you baking this _creation_ in my kitchen and not your own?”

“May gets nervous when we turn the oven on.” Well, that did make sense, considering her track record. Tony would never forget the horrors he’d seen leading up to the Decathlon Bake Sale. It seemed Peter had inherited his Aunt’s curse - and Tony didn’t say that lightly, the woman really was cursed. Terribly, terribly cursed.

“Why are you making a cake in the first place?” Peter looks away at his question, glaring down at the pan as though the heat from his eyes could cook it into something edible. He mumbles something indecipherable, and Tony holds a hand to his ear. “Come again?”

“I didn’t know what to get you!” Peter exclaims, throwing his hands up in a cloud of flour. “It’s your birthday tomorrow and I didn’t know what you wanted but - who doesn’t like cake, right?”

Peter sounds a little desperate and a lot embarrassed, and Tony blinks as the kid’s shoulders slump. It _is_ his birthday tomorrow, holy shit he’d totally forgotten. The pause Tony takes makes Peter’s shoulders shrink inwards, and all of a sudden, Tony feels something way too close to _choked up_ for comfort. He plants his hands on the counter firmly, carefully avoiding the cake’s radius, and waits for Peter to look up at him. “I don’t need anything from you, kid.”

“But it’s your birthday.” Peter’s foot makes a dull _thunk_ against the counter as he swings it idly. “I wanted to give you something special.”

“Oh, this is definitely special.” Tony jokes, and Peter snorts despite himself. “Seriously, though, the fact that you even thought to make me anything is - really nice.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s the thought that counts. I don’t know if I could take it.” Peter groans, and Tony laughs to himself.

“Just - thank you, Peter.”

Peter slowly returns the smile, even if it is a little sheepish. “Anytime, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/190559825510/ooh-what-about-what-are-you-doing-what-am-i) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from an anon:
> 
> **“Stop trying to kick me out of the car while we’re still moving!”**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

“I can’t do it.” Peter stares hopelessly at the steering wheel in front of him, feeling particularly despondent. Tony poorly suppresses a sigh, looking down through the yellow lenses of his sunglasses at Peter. The car - Pepper’s car, a clean energy Prius - is barely audible as it purrs beneath them. Peter’s never felt closer to throwing up in Tony’s presence before.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Tony leans back in his seat, eyeing Peter critically. “You and your Aunt, you just work each other up. Take it out of park.”

“Tony - “

“ _Out of park_ , Peter.” Peter complies, mouth dry, foot smashed hard on the brake. Tony shook his head and pointed at the empty track in front of them. There’s nothing around the Compound for miles and miles, but Peter can’t help the nerves, eating away at him. “Now, _gently,_ ease off the brake.”

They didn’t move for a long minute, Peter’s hands clenched at ten and two on the wheel. Tony took off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “You can fight crazy guys with guns all day long, but driving a Prius on an empty stretch of road is too much for you?”

“Yes.” Peter swallows hard, trying to psych himself up. Driving was a million times worse than Peter had anticipated. Taking the driver’s seat and paying attention to other drivers on the road twisted his stomach into knots. His spidey sense triggered a low buzz of danger that had him on edge whenever he was on the road. May’s anxiousness only compounded matters until they were both practically hyperventilating. It had all come to a head when she’d been giving him a lesson, panicked, and tried to take the wheel.

“Stop trying to kick me out of the car while we’re still moving!” Peter had screeched desperately, unsure of what to do with his feet, and hitting the gas by accident. One broken side mirror later, they’d decided Peter getting lessons from an outside party was probably for the better.

Tony’s scrutiny is an improvement, but only barely.

“Peter. _Peter._ ” His reverie is interrupted by Tony again, and Peter shakes his head, staring unseeing at the road. He couldn’t do it, he just…it was embarrassing, how childish he felt for being afraid.

“Pete.” Tony tries again, softer, poking Peter’s elbow. “Look at me, would you?”

Peter sighs and finally does look at Tony, trying not to look as ashamed as he felt. Tony was smiling, though, something gentle Peter rarely saw. “Do you think I’d let anything happen to you?”

It was not a rhetorical question, and Tony waits, uncharacteristically patiently, for Peter to mumble a simple “No…”

“Good.” Tony leans back in his seat again, the picture of relaxation. “Now put the car in drive, and just take your foot off the brake. You don’t even have to put it on the gas, champ, just leave it off both pedals. You’ve got this, Peter.”

“Yeah.” Peter wets his lips, letting the determination fill him anew. Tony would never let anything bad happen, not if it was within his control. Moreover, he trusted Peter, and Peter felt the tension slowly bleed out of his shoulders. “Yeah, I think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/190576005805/are-you-still-doing-prompts-if-so-28-please) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from [razor-bats:](https://razor-bats.tumblr.com)
> 
> **"You do not choose the family you are born into, but you have all the choices afterwards."**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

December 16th is, historically speaking, not a great day. There’s the Battle of the Bulge, the bloodiest battle US forces were involved in during World War II. There’s the Boston Tea Party, of course, and the severe earthquake that hit the Gansu province in China, circa 1920. 8.5 magnitude, 200,000 people dead - yeah, December 16th, not great.

It’s also the day the Winter Soldier killed Howard and Maria Stark, but who’s keeping track?

Tony is 48, about to turn 49. His parents have been dead for 27 years. It doesn’t hurt quite the same way, anymore. Time moves, whether you want it to or not. The grief - it doesn’t go away, but it does fade, over time. He’s at peace - he’s got a lovely fiancée, he’s surrounded by the best friends he’s ever had, and hell, he’s even grateful for the spiderkid, who somehow bumbled into his life. There was no way to expect someone like Peter Parker - he just kind of _happened._

But back to the point: he’s okay. He didn’t used to be - Tony remembers many a Christmas (the whole month of December, really, for years) spent sobbing over a toilet bowl. Jarvis would come in, after the fireworks were over - ignoring the smashed glass and scattered mess Tony had created - and just rub Tony’s back soothingly.

“He was a bastard, Jarvis.” Tony said quietly, cheek still pressed against the cool lip of the toilet bowl. “He was an utter bastard, and I hated every second I spent with him.”

“Yes sir.” Jarvis agreed, equally as quiet. “Yes, you did.”

“Then why does it feel like this?” He wanted to demand it, to scream it, but he’d already done that. “Why does it feel like - like - “

Tony trailed off, for once unable to finish his sentence. Jarvis let the moment sit silently, his hand rubbing firm circles against Tony’s back. Tony was barely 21 - he wasn’t ready for this (frankly, Tony didn’t see how anyone ever could be).

“You do not choose the family you are born into.” Jarvis broke the silence, his tone even, his words firm. Tony listened, the only other sound his open-mouth breathing. “But you have all the choices afterwards.”

It’s December 16th, 2018, and Tony is okay. Not great - a death anniversary is still a death anniversary. But he’s okay. The day moves, as all days do (he’s come to learn this - the flow of time is one thing that cannot be averted). Pepper squeezes his hand extra tight before she leaves for work, the unconditional love in her expression so much more than he deserves. Rhodey calls him, at lunch, and they chat for half an hour, emotion just beneath the surface but blessedly avoided. It’s wonderful that they care, truly, but Tony is almost 49. His grief is best left in a box, undisturbed.

The kid comes over. Peter is bright eyes and a brighter smile, and they spend the afternoon repairing the drone in Peter’s suit. It’s an easy distraction, the laughter and incredulous smiles Peter always manages to bring out of Tony sorely needed, on today of all days.

“Tony?” Peter’s got his backpack slung over his shoulders, straightening up just as he finishes lacing his sneakers to head home. Tony doesn’t look up from the delicate soldering he’s doing on a couple of internal wires, offering a grunt of acknowledgement in response.

Peter doesn’t say anything, though. He waits until Tony’s done with the drone piece he’s holding before launching at him, catching his mentor in a surprisingly firm hug. Tony starts, surprised, one hand landing on Peter’s back. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“Oh.” Tony blinks. He hadn’t even known _Peter_ had known. For the first time that day, Tony swallows hard. “It’s okay, kid.”

Peter pulls back with a small smile, the kind of smile that reminds Tony that Peter has lost even more than he has, at a far younger age. If anyone knows how Not Okay it is, it’s Peter Parker. The kid furthers this observation by responding, simply and calmly, “Sure.”

He couldn’t choose the family he was born into, Tony notes, watching Peter walk out the door and head off for home, but his choices since aren’t half-bad. He likes to think Jarvis would agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/190576857195/congratulations-im-so-proud-of-you-you-deserve) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts are all from my Tumblr, in celebration of varying milestones. If you haven't already, you can find me at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) and send in prompts whenever I announce a milestone!
> 
> This prompt is from an anon:
> 
> **“I love you. And don’t even think about Han Solo-ing me.”**
> 
> **“You have really started to watch an excessive amount of Spongebob Squarepants lately.” “I sense a judging tone there..”**
> 
> Fair warning that this is totally unbeta'd.

Tony’s sick. Full-on, snotty, coughing, gross, _death warmed over_ sick. It’s not often he gets like this, contrary to popular belief. Sure, maybe he goes on a work binge every now and then (“76 hours with no sleep isn’t a binge, Tony, it’s a form of self-harm.” Pepper reminds him, lacking any and all amusement.) - but he’s always indoors, in his lab. What kind of pathogens are going to get him in there? It’s a moot point, anyway, because he _hasn’t_ done that as of late, has been making a conscious effort _not_ to do that, thank you very much.

And now he’s sick. This is the thanks he gets? Seriously?

“Seems like some bullshit to me.” Rhodey says with a smirk that can be heard even over the phone, his tone a direct contrast to the sympathetic words. Tony’s eyes narrow as he blows his nose and misses the trash can when he tries to make the three-point shot.

“Are you laughing at me? I feel like you’re laughing at me. My misfortune isn’t a joke, Colonel.”

Rhodey is silent for a suspiciously long time on the other end of the phone. “When have I ever laughed at your _misfortune_?”

He hangs up before Tony can respond. Rhodey is totally _laughing_ at him.

Peter walks in on a warzone, later that afternoon. There’s what looks like a whole medicine cabinet on the coffee table, and way too many tissues have missed the trash can. Tony is in the middle of the mayhem on the couch, buried under four blankets and a quilt he’s pretty sure Pepper’s grandmother made.

“Thank God,” Tony says, and even though he wants to sit up, he stays slumped over on the couch, unable to summon the energy. “I need a sandwich, minion.”

“I’m your intern, not your minion.” Peter replies with a snort, picking his way across the tissue minefield. He perches on the arm of the couch, watching Tony, amused.

“Same difference.” Tony sniffs, trying to appear dignified. And commanding. Commanding would be good because he wasn’t kidding about the sandwich. “Italian sub, extra provolone. Banana peppers and oil are a must. Take the Porsche, I want it yesterday.”

“I can’t drive. I don’t have a license.” Peter nudges Tony’s shapeless blanket mass with his toe. “You look terrible. How about some soup?”

“You don’t need a license to drive a sandwich.” Tony says, before he can think about it. “I don’t want soup, I want a sub. Didn’t you hear me?”

“You have really started to watch an excessive amount of Spongebob Squarepants lately.” Peter rolls his eyes, tucking his legs underneath him. He shouldn’t be able to perch comfortably like that but somehow, the kid manages.

“I sense a judging tone there…” Tony coughs suddenly, loud and flemy. It triggers a fit, and by the time his eyes have stopped watering, Peter is already holding out a tissue for him. Tony takes it, albeit reluctantly. “I don’t want soup.”

“How about a deal?” Peter’s eyes glitter with barely restrained mirth. At least the kid has more mercy than his so-called best friend. “Tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

“No deal.” Tony scoffs, tipping his chin up in a challenge. Peter’s eyebrows both rise, despite the kid’s best efforts to appear neutral. Tony’s a master negotiator, though. “Come on, grilled cheese? A man needs meat. Nope.”

“Fine. Soup and grilled cheese, and a nap.” Peter spreads his hands openly, offering a half-shrug. “And after the nap, I’ll get you your sub. Final offer.”

Tony opens his mouth to deny, yet again, but Peter cuts him off. “I doubt you’re gonna get a better one, Mr. Stark.”

“ _Fine._ ” Tony grumbles, and Peter grins wide, like the goddamn Cheshire Cat. “But we also don’t tell Pepper about the sub.”

“Deal.” Peter can’t help but laugh then, as he gets up off the couch to head for the kitchen, to make Tony’s lunch. “I’ll even throw bacon on your grilled cheese, as a sign of good will.”

“I love you.” Tony groans, sinking lower into his couch crevice. “And don’t even think about Han Solo-ing me!”

“Wasn’t going to.” Peter is an awful liar, even from a room away. Tony hides his smile, pulling his blankets closer. Maybe being sick isn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write Spiderman with no hyphen for the aesthetic.
> 
> Follow my writing blog at [thwip--thwip](http://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com) for more debatably decent content.  
> [Rebloggable link](https://thwip--thwip.tumblr.com/post/190578304940/not-sure-which-one-of-these-have-been-sent) <3
> 
> Comment if you liked it! Love you all 3000.


End file.
